After school, a career driven young Murph was on a warpath the succeed. I moved to the big smoke of Newcastle for a year to study Youth Work. Whilst I was there I volunteered at youth centres and delivered pizzas to build my workplace confidence and get a few pennies in the pocket. Admittedly the pennies were almost entirely committed to drinking goon. It was a time that has affectionately become known as the ‘Hutchin’s Days’.

There was a lot of watching bands in these days but no playing in them. I had lost a little bit of the ambition to play and was more motivated by my new career in community services. However, I can vividly remember the first time I walked into RTN studios on Maitland Road in Islington to the sound of a band my good friend, Ben McCauley was in. RTN was a cool spot. Bands rehearsing and the smell of stale beer and bong water in the console. It was rather elevating.

Myself, along with a bunch of other Gunnedah folk and some select others lived in a massive student house. Hutchin’s House. It was roughly 13 or so rooms with a communal kitchen, lounge and a small backyard in the suburb of Hamilton. In theory the place was perfect. I lived with 3 of my high school friends and a big group of mates had lived there the year before so we had a solid basis for house parties and mischief. There was a point where Monday was essentially the only “day off” of social drinking. Thursday’s, Friday’s and Saturday’ were standard, Sunday’s was the Brewery and Tuesday’s was wine appreciation night. Wednesday nights were the kicker though – That was student night. The Cambridge at the start of 2006 had student night drinks at $2.00/beer or spirit. Throughout the year the price rose steadily but still at the end of the calendar, drinks were still only $2.80. In this day and age a drink that price seems like an unrealistic dream from a far away land but it was real. Very real.

Believe it or not, Wednesday nights weren’t the most significant abuse of one’s self that came out of this 12 months of my life. The most celebrated and astonishing thing that we came up with, was without a doubt; Steak Day. Steak Day became synonymous with heavy drinking, destruction and debauchery. It was pretty simple. Find yourself a nice cheap cut of meat for the BBQ and then start drinking around 10am.

Steak Day ’06 – Initially we wanted this giant sheet of steel to cook a pizza. Instead, we cooked steaks.

Some of the first Steak Day’s will be etched into my brain for eternity. There was maybe 15-20 of us crammed into the back yard of Hutchin’s being absolute menaces. Setting off fire alarms, smashing bottles and doing table slides. It’s hard to say if this next part was one day or a combination of a few, but hang in there…

We started early and were getting well lubricated. We had coped wind that there was a brand new batch of international students coming by to have a look at the house and move in. I’m guessing they arrived around mid afternoon. There was approx. 12 American students ready to get started on their “beachy, city” life in Australia. I vividly remember them arriving and looking at the circus that was unfolding in the backyard. There was makeshift BBQ, all the outdoor furniture was on the roof, inhabited by inebriated residents slapping each other on the bare back with a beer bong hose, someone had taken a shit out of a tree and the whole place stank, not to mention glorious metal music playing as loud as our computer speakers could get it. The look on their faces was shear horror. The chance of the new guests staying for the long haul wasn’t helped in one bit by one gentleman, Mr Richard Hores from Washington, USA, who had lived in Hutchin’s the year before and was giving them “The Grand Tour”. Richard proceeded to tell the new students that this was a pretty well standard thing (no lies there) and that Newcastle is a great place to live but one must be mindful of John Logan.

Richard and “John Logan”

As far as I knew, the only John Logan in Newcastle was our beer bong but Richard let them know that John was in fact a serial killer that snuck into people’s houses and murdered them in their sleep. Needless to say, of the 12 that came, 2 stayed and a good group of about 7 of them all slept in the one room, purely out of fear. We later found out that one of them was on the phone to their folks, in tears.

Welcome to the land of Oz.

Hazy Days – The lounge room of Hutchin’s House.